by May Burnett
He did not fail to notice that she used his friend’s family name, as though speaking of a stranger. Swallowing his anger, he bowed again. “I see. Pray do so, Contessa, while I hasten to find other succour. Your servant, Ma’am.”
“Signore - will you introduce us, Mother?” Two tall, middle-aged men had entered behind his back. One wore the soutane of a priest.
“Mr Wetherby, an Englishman, my two sons, Monsignore Guiseppe Mardiglio, and Count Armando Mardiglio,” the old lady said. She had switched to Italian with the entrance of her sons. Had she not taught them her own native tongue? They were polite but cool, and ignored the Bellairs sisters, who were standing to the side.
The Contessa proceeded to briefly describe Sir Conrad’s predicament to her sons.
“Most unfortunate,” the priest commented. “Are you certain, Mr Wetherby, that your friend is not involved in sedition or espionage?”
“Quite certain.”
“One never knows, even about supposed friends,” Count Armando said with a sneer. “I don’t think we should get involved in such an unsavoury matter. If a mistake was made, it will be discovered soon enough.”
“I understand you position,” Anthony said, and coldly took his leave. The girls looked after him with anguished faces, contrasting with the cold rigidity of their grandmother.
He needed other allies. The girls were powerless, and the Contessa’s family had not shown the slightest intention of helping. What a thoroughly useless, selfish bunch.
Had Tsien found Ehrenblatt? And would the Hauptmann prove any more helpful? The questions he had posed to Anthony in the coffee shop indicated that the officer himself might be involved in counterespionage. And if so, why was Anthony not also suspect? Instead the Hauptmann had spoken fairly openly to him. Just as well that he was still free, but it was yet another puzzle.
All right, a lawyer first. He would also write a thorough account of the puzzling affair to the Embassy in Vienna and the Consulate in Venice. But what then?
Chapter 9
If you receive a timely warning, take it seriously.
Maxims for Young Gentlewomen, Vol. 2, by a Lady (1824)
After that inauspicious beginning, it was to prove a day of endless frustrations. Tsien had tracked down Hauptmann Ehrenblatt and delivered the letter with his usual efficiency, but there had been no reply. In the late afternoon Anthony at last managed to hire a lawyer. He learned there was no distinction between solicitor and barrister in Italy, it was all the same.
Dottore Moro, the young man whom he convinced to take on the case by dint of paying three times the going rate, was not optimistic. “In political cases, none of the normal rules apply,” he explained. “I have powerful relatives and several friends among the Austrian officer corps, but even I shall have to be careful how I approach this matter. My first step will be to informally pump my friends for information, to discover the nature of the accusation. At the same time I shall spread a warning that Sir Conrad has powerful and influential connections that would take it very ill if he were in any way –um – tortured. Hopefully this will stay their hand until we know more.”
“Well, do your best,” Anthony said. “Let me know the moment you have any news.”
“In the meantime, be careful not to draw any suspicion on yourself, Signore Wetherby. It is surprising they have not tried at least to question you already. If they apply pressure to your friend, he will say anything they want to hear, possibly implicating you, no matter how falsely. I advise you to depart Verona, just in case, before that happens.”
“I cannot simply abandon my companion to his fate.”
“You have hired me; there is little else you can do.”
Anthony left the lawyer’s offices more upset than before. Could he really be in danger? He had no heart for more sightseeing, and hardly tasted his dinner before turning in earlier than usual.
At two in the morning he was woken up by a soft knock on his door. Tsien noiselessly appeared from the connecting room, looking deceptively frail.
“Open,” Anthony commanded quietly, sitting up in bed, his hand on the knife under the pillow.
The boy of sixteen who entered did not appear to be a threat to two grown men. He carried a small covered lantern, open on one side only.
“Are you Signore Wetherby?” The boy had difficulty pronouncing the foreign name.
“Yes,” Anthony admitted. “What do you want with me in the middle of the night?”
“The gentleman to whom you sent a message earlier is willing to meet with you, and urges you to come at once.”
That could only be Hauptmann Ehrenblatt. But why the secrecy, the trappings of intrigue?
“Where?”
“If you leave the inn and turn left and just walk, he will find you. I shall go now.” The boy slipped out of the door.
Both men dressed quickly. “Make sure you are not seen to follow me,” Anthony commanded.
“These Europeans would not see me if I rode a buffalo,” Tsien indignantly replied. “But I shall have to stay well behind, so aim for delay and noise if there should be trouble.”
Anthony nodded. Tsien was his superior in fighting skill and technique by a great margin; in private their relationship was closer to that of equals, than master and servant.
As he undid the heavy bolts of the inn’s front door, Anthony wondered how the boy had entered. Not this way, at any rate.
Obedient to his instructions, he walked along the nearly empty, narrow streets. The crescent moon did not yield enough light to see the cobblestones under his feet, though the roofs were dimly illuminated.
A cloaked man with a broad, old-fashioned hat hiding the face fell into step with him some ten minutes from the inn. He only recognized the Hauptmann by his voice, kept low.
“I am glad you decided to come, Marquis.”
Anthony started. “You know who I am?”
“I knew all along. You were once pointed out to me as Lord Pell at a rout in London, when I visited friends at our Embassy there. My memory for faces is even better than for languages. It is thanks to this information that you are not also under arrest and suspicion, like your hapless friend.”
“I am using my real name on my travels,” Anthony said, “I just found it more convenient, not to say cheaper, to leave the title behind.”
“I know. We do have access to your Debrett’s here. As for your friend, do not worry about him. He should be free within days, when they realise they caught the wrong man.”
“The wrong man? But who is the right man?”
“To share that information is dangerous for me, and against all regulations,” Ehrenblatt said. He turned into a small piazza, keeping to the centre, and further lowered his voice. Anthony had to strain his ears to make out his words.
“On the other hand, my conclusions are only suspicions at this point. Let me put my cards on the table. During the Ball at the City Hall the other night, a letter with extremely compromising contents was intercepted. Troop numbers, and worst of all, copies of the plans of the new fortifications to be built here and in Legnano. Rendered in Chinese ink drawings done with considerable talent and a particular style that will be a dead giveaway once the culprit comes under suspicion.”
“I am sorry to hear it, but that has nothing to do with Sir Conrad or me.” For the first time in his life, Anthony was glad he had no talent for drawing.
“That letter was found under your table. My colleagues in charge of the investigation immediately leapt to the conclusion that it had to be Sir Conrad’s – they knew your identity from me, and that you came back from the Orient, while Sir Conrad Bolland was more of an unknown quantity.”
“He came back on the same ship I did, all the way from Ceylon. To anyone who knows him, the suspicion that he could be involved in espionage would appear ludicrous. He is a harmless and guileless creature.”
“So I also concluded, from my own observation at the ball,” the Hauptmann agreed. “But that leaves only his c
ousins. I may be a poor patriot, but I do not care for the thought of those lovely young throats stretched on a gallows, Wetherby. One or both of them are definitely responsible for that letter.”
Antony stopped dead. “You cannot be serious!”
“Deadly serious, I fear. The penalties if they are found out are not optional. I cannot do anything more to save them, than to put the matter in your hands. My colleagues are puzzled by Sir Conrad’s reactions and checking out his statements now. It cannot take long till they find he is innocently caught up in something that does not concern him. In my estimation you have at most forty-eight hours to spirit the two girls away.” His voice softened. “I really liked young Emily, and would hate for her to be arrested.”
“I hope and pray that you are mistaken in your suspicion,” Anthony said, “but thank you for the warning.” His head was whirling. “I promise that if it is true in any way, they shall be removed from Verona and no longer able to act against your country.”
“That is in Austria’s best interests, while a squalid scandal involving English ladies being hanged is not, in my estimation. But some of us see it differently, so lose no time.” He melted away into the darkness of a side alley. Anthony stopped and looked around. Where was he, in which direction was the inn? The tall Lamberti Tower, close to the city hall, helped him orient himself. He was already walking in the right direction when Tsien joined him.
“I could not hear what the man told you, but he did not act hostile,” he murmured.
“No, he was not. If the information he provided is correct, he was in fact extremely helpful, though it creates new problems.” He decided not to discuss the Hauptmann’s suspicions at this juncture. “It may prove necessary to depart very suddenly with three ladies. Make sure the coach, the driver and a good team of horses are available at a moment’s notice; cost does not matter.”
“Very well,” Tsien said. “Where would we travel with these ladies?”
“Geneva,” Anthony decided. Neutral Switzerland was out of Austrian jurisdiction, and the ladies could stay there in comfort, waiting for Sir Conrad to join them after his release. On the other hand, the distance was considerable. Venice with its harbour was the obvious direction, where any pursuit would focus. Instead they could skirt Milan to the north, and from there it was not too far to Lake Como … in early October the Alps were still passable.
They walked by a dilapidated medieval building. The waning moon was not ideal for a nightly departure, but probably just sufficient to get well away from Verona. Was their hired coach big enough for Mrs Bellairs, her two daughters, Tsien and himself? Did the ladies have some faithful maid they could not possibly leave behind? How much luggage would they require? A second coach would call too much attention to his plans. They would just have to travel light; Anthony could leave some of his own possessions behind, to be forwarded straight to London, or transported by Sir Conrad when he was freed.
A tower stretched upwards to his right; he could just make out the clock overhead. Not quite three in the morning. Though Anthony was impatient to talk to the Bellairs females, at this time of the night it was out of the question and would only arouse needless suspicion. Tomorrow morning, then. How early did the ladies get up?
He contented himself with writing a note, indicating that he had very urgent news regarding Sir Conrad’s situation, and would do himself the honour of calling on Mrs Bellairs and her daughters at their earliest convenience. Tsien would deliver it at seven, and wait for the reply.
Heart and head heavy with worry, he tried to find sleep again, against the efforts of the coming days. But it eluded him. Instead he kept seeing the faces of Margaret and Emily Bellairs before him, glowing with pleasure and exercise, as he had seen them at that cursed ball. He recalled in embarrassing detail how pleasantly Emily had fit into his arms during their waltz.
Would they even be willing to come away at such short notice? The prospect of returning to England would probably sway them. If necessary he could reveal his identity and assure them of his patronage – to maintain three females in genteel comfort would hardly make a blip on his ledgers. He was already supporting legions of former employees, remote relations, and other hangers-on. As long as the matter was handled discreetly, through a “legacy” that could not be connected to him, it would not impact either their or his reputation.
By the time Tsien returned from the Casa Mardiglio, he had settled the Bellairs family’s fortunes in his mind and even picked out a house from his many properties, in Bath, that he thought would suit them. Of course Sir Conrad might have other plans, but right now it was up to Anthony to save the day.
Chapter 10
In times of danger, it is essential to remain awake and alert.
Maxims for Young Gentlewomen, Vol. 2, by a Lady (1824)
The girls looked as though they had not slept much either, though Emily was fresher than Margaret. They received him in the same dim parlour as the previous day.
"I was not expecting to see you again so soon," Emily said. "Your message sounded very urgent. Is it bad news?"
"It may be." Surely her pretty, innocent face did not hide any dangerous secrets. "Is your mother up yet? What I need to discuss with you is in strictest confidence, but I would feel better if she were here to chaperon you."
Emily shook her head regretfully. "Mother is still asleep. She took laudanum late at night, as worry for Sir Conrad would not allow her to sleep otherwise. Even if we could rouse her, she would find it hard to focus."
"Very well, then. Will you please close the door, Miss Emily? Are you sure we cannot be overheard here?"
"Nobody would bother," Emily said, as she followed his suggestion. "We are not sufficiently important or interesting to be spied upon."
Margaret looked around nervously. There were deep shadows under her eyes. "Do not keep us in suspense, Mr Wetherby, what have you learned?"
"From a confidential source I have received a warning - that a letter containing information on military plans and secrets was intercepted at the City Hall ball the other night. The authorities are convinced it came from somebody at our table. If Conrad is innocent, as we all believe, my informant surmises that one of you must be responsible."
He scrutinized the girls’ countenances faces as he spoke. Emily only showed the uncomprehending confusion of an innocent person, quickly turning to anger.
Margaret gasped and clutched a hand to her bosom. "Oh, God! I knew it!"
Emily turned to her sister in a swish of black cotton. "What do you mean, Margaret? Surely there cannot be any truth in this absurd allegation!”
"I ... I'm afraid ... don't look at me like that, Emily! It was harmless enough!"
"What was harmless enough?" Emily sounded exasperated. "If our cousin is now in prison because of you, clearly it was the very opposite of harmless!"
"Indeed," Anthony added, "according to my informant the penalty would be hanging, even in case of a lovely woman. He has guessed that you might be responsible, Miss Bellairs, and warned me to remove the two of you from Verona within the day."
"What!" Emily stared at him. "You cannot mean it!"
"I judge it imperative that you depart this city forthwith, Miss Emily, especially if your sister knows more about this letter than she should."
"But surely -," Emily turned to Margaret. "I beg you, Margaret, tell me it is not true."
"I was going to confess all," Margaret said miserably. "If it looked as though Conrad were to be condemned, I was going to make a full confession. But really - hanging? It cannot be as bad as all that."
"Yes, it can," Anthony said brutally. He needed her to be candid, while she felt guilty. Without accurate information they were all in twice as much danger. "Sit down, Miss Bellairs, and tell us the whole from the beginning."
She obeyed, as though hypnotized, wringing her hands in her lap. Emily and he remained standing, staring at her. "When we were still in London, just about to depart for Italy, an officer from the War Offi
ce called on me. Mother and Emily were out arranging the journey, but I received him, because he sent in a card with the scribbled note that he might have news to our advantage. We were desperate, and I felt ready to clutch at any straw."
Anthony balled his fist; he would hunt the fellow down and horsewhip him for taking advantage of a bereaved girl's misery. "What name was on the card?"
"Major Theodore Andrews. Who knows if it was his true name, however?"
"And what did this Major suggest?"
"He told me that Verona was an important city for the Austrians, they were planning to build large fortifications, and there was constant troop movement. He suggested that it would be easy and safe for me to gather such information, and put it in my letters to a "Cousin Theodora". Only, a year ago he wrote that letters going through the mail were no longer safe, and since then I hid the letters in a local church, under the seat. Only I had not been able to go out recently, and the last letter was overdue. I planned to slip out of the ball – the City Hall is a mere five minutes’ walk from the Church - that was when you could not find me, Emily. However, when I got to the Church the letter was not in my reticule. I have no idea how it could be lost at the ball. It is not as though it could easily slip out of my bag."
"But if it was taken directly from the reticule, they would know right away who wrote it," Emily objected, gnawing her lips in worry.
"Yes, and I do not understand how suspicion could fall on your cousin instead," Anthony said.
"The letter was signed by a fictitious male name, Robert Brahm. Of course I would not use my own."
"And how did you obtain the information you sent?"
The ghost of a smirk danced across Margaret’s mouth. "That was easy enough, with all these officers in and out of the house and talking to our uncles the whole time. I merely needed to keep my ears open. And I am a good hand at sketching," she added with a touch of pride.
